


The Quiet Room

by I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)



Series: Gibbs' Family [52]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Ableist Language, Age Play, Everyone Has Issues, Fighting, Gen, Gibbs has had enough, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Making Up, Non-Sexual Age Play, Parental Jethro Gibbs, Tim swears a tiny bit, Time Out, Tony Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress
Summary: Tony and Timmy get in a fight, for reasons Tony can't explain. But when Gibbs has enough of their bickering and attempts to make them play nice in the middle of a storm, things go sideways.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entangledbanks (summerhurleys)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhurleys/gifts).



> This one's for my good Tumblr friend, not only for giving me the idea to write this, but also for having a craving for some Tony and Tim bromance. Sorry if this isn't exactly what you need, but hopefully it'll be enough! Also also also! I finished NaNoWriMo today with over 51,000 words! I'm so pumped! Enjoy!

Rain pattered against the windows of Gibbs' house, a soft rhythm that was a stark contrast to the two boys playing inside. Tony and Timmy each had a wooden spoon and were banging them against as many metal objects as they could get their hands on. In other words, they had laid out the entirety of Gibbs' kitchen supplies and a few of their toys. Tony was banging on every pot and pan he could in rapid succession, not paying attention to any rhythm he might have made. Timmy was more experimental, listening to each sound banging any make-shift drum made, and comparing it to the ones he had already heard. Tony continued to whack everything with a vengeance, turning to look out the window at the rain pouring down. "We're making rain in here, too!"

"You're just making the sound, not actual rain," Timmy said, hitting the next pan in his line. "And it's not a very good rain sound, either."

"We're making rain in here," Tony restated, going back to bang on the pans.

Timmy shook his head and continued his tapping. "When is Papa coming back up?" he asked.

"I dunno," Tony said. "He had to do Papa things, so he could be gone a while."

Timmy whined. "I wish he were up here _now_."

"Me too."

Timmy ran his hand over their collection of drums. "D'you think we could get him up here?"

Tony shrugged. "Maybe. How loud can you yell?"

"Tony! I'm not yelling just to get Papa up here!" Timmy said.

"Not even a little bit?" Tony asked hopefully.

"No!" Timmy said. "I'm not gonna yell and make Papa think somethin' is wrong when it's not."

"You wouldn't have to yell like somethin's _wrong_ , dummy," Tony persuaded. "Just yell Papa's name and ask if he can play with us."

"You do it if you want him up here so much," Timmy snipped.

Tony blinked. Was Timmy suddenly angry with him? He didn't do anything wrong, did he? Was Timmy going to want to speak to him again, or was he bored with Tony? Whenever Daddy got bored with him, he would just growl and ignore him like he didn't exist. Well, whatever was going to happen, if Timmy was going to be angry, Tony was going to be angry back. "Why would I hafta do it? Aren't _you_  the little crybaby who goes to him every time you don't get something your way?"

Timmy looked at Tony in shock. "I am _not_!" he yelled, even as his eyes glossed over slightly.

"Yes you _are_!" Tony exclaimed. "You're crying right now!"

"Screw you!" Timmy yelled, chucking his spoon at Tony.

"Hey hey hey!" Papa exclaimed, running up the stairs from the basement. "What is going on here?!"

"Timmy said naughty words!" Tony said, pointing at Timmy.

"Tony said mean words first!" Timmy argued.

"I only said mean words after _you_  were mean to me!" Tony exclaimed.

"Nuh-uh!" Timmy said.

"Don't lie to Papa!" Tony said, shoving Timmy.

Timmy stumbled back, legs flying, before he rushed forward and shoved Tony back. "Screw! You!" he yelled. "I never wanna see you again!"

Papa was yelling something and trying to grab one or both of them, but Tony was too mad to care. "I wish I never even _met_  you!" he yelled back. "I should have never answered your call from Norfolk!"

Timmy roared in anger and pulled his fist back to punch Tony, but Papa grabbed hold of his arm before he could. Tony held his hands up to his face as Papa used his other hand to pull Tony out from underneath Timmy. "Both of you, _up_ ," Papa ordered. Papa never ordered anything unless it was serious.

Timmy managed to stand up before Tony, but Tony refused to think that maybe because Timmy was faster that Papa would be less mad at his brother. Papa didn't work like that, at least he had never seen anything that meant that. Papa never let go of either of their arms as he walked to the stairs, but his grip did loosen on Timmy's arm so that his hand slid to the boy's wrist. Timmy stopped dead in his tracks when Papa readjusted his hand and tightened his grip again. Tony stared at Timmy. Did he not understand Papa was mad at them and now wasn't the time to be stubborn?

Papa turned to look at Timmy and sighed. "Timmy," he warned. "Now isn't the time to break the rules."

Timmy turned ash white, but didn't move. Tony frowned. Timmy wasn't even looking _at_  Papa, necessarily. It looked more like he was looking _through_  Papa, at something...or some _one_  else. Oh. "Papa, I don't think you should be grabbing Timmy's wrist," Tony whispered.

Papa looked at Tony, then looked at where his hand was holding Timmy. He closed his eyes and muttered a swear Tony couldn't make out completely. The man moved his hand to Timmy's elbow and gave the boy a gentle tug. "Timmy, you're not getting a belting, all right? My hand slipped and I needed to make sure you were still following me. I didn't mean to grab you too roughly or in a place where you don't like to be grabbed."

Timmy didn't verbally respond, but his eyes refocused and he shuffled forward again. Papa sighed and continued leading the boys up the stairs and past their bedroom, to an empty room at the end of the house. "This is the quiet room," Papa said as he nudged the two boys inside. "I’ve had enough of you two bickering, so until you figure it out, you two don’t get to come out of that room."

Tony snapped to attention, suddenly realizing where this had to be going, and Timmy must have realized, too, because he was shaking his head rapidly and stuttering over the letter _s_  in what Tony assumed was his trying to say _sorry_. Papa held up a hand. "I don't want any arguments about this. I'll be back in an hour." And with that, he closed the door.

Neither boy moved for a few seconds, before Tony dashed to the door and tried to open it, only to find that the doorknob wouldn't budge, and there was no lock that Tony could see on the inside of the room. Behind him, Timmy made a noise between a cry and a groan, and there was the thud of something hitting the floor. Tony turned around to find Timmy pulling at his hair, on his knees on the hardwood flooring. Tony rushed over and crouched over the other boy. "Hey, Timmy, it's okay, it's okay, please, stop doing that."

Timmy's yanking just became more erratic, and his breathing got labored. Tony carefully threaded his fingers through Timmy's and moved his hands away from the boy's head, careful to avoid touching Timmy's wrists. "Hey, Timmy, it's gonna be okay," Tony whispered, though he didn't believe his words himself.

Timmy hiccuped and shook his head. "P-P-Papa l-lef-ft u-us h-h-h-here! H-he-he's n-n-not c-c-coming _back_."

"Of course he is," Tony insisted. "He's Papa. He always comes back."

"D-don't be a _dummy_ ," Timmy spat. "Once Daddys leave they leave for forever. Why would Papas be any different?"

"Because Papas _aren't_  Daddys," Tony said. He was at a complete loss as to what to do here. He wasn't used to being the big kid. " _You're_  being the dummy if you think Papa isn't coming back."

Timmy scowled. "Screw you. Stop calling me stupid!"

"Stop using naughty words that Papa said you can't use!" Tony fired back. "Do you even care about how I might feel when you say those things?!"

"Do _you_? When you call me stupid?! Or useless?! Or wimpy?! Or a _girl_?! Do you _ever_  think about what comes out of your mouth?" Timmy asked, crying. "You either make me do something for you or you insult me, and I'm sick of it! You can do things for yourself! I shouldn't have to be responsible for your happiness!"

Tony scowled. "You're not! And I don't make you do everything for me!"

Timmy shoved Tony away. "If you're gonna think like that, then you don't get to talk to me! Go find something else to do in this room, you baby!"

Tony huffed. He was just trying to help. "Fine! I'll just never talk to you again!"

No response. Tony stood and moved to the opposite side of the room, scowling and sticking his thumb in his mouth. He wished he could color or something in here. It was boring just sitting against the wall, with nothing to watch but Timmy's self-destructive behavior that he would start and stop with halting motions every once in a while. Outside, the storm worsened. Rain slashed against the windows, and the wind howled. Worse than that, though, without warning, a bright flash came through the windows, immediately followed by a giant clap of thunder. Tony flinched and Timmy jumped a good half-a-foot off the ground, before backing into a corner, back to the walls. Tony felt bad for the boy. Maybe he _hadn't_  been the nicest lately. But that didn't mean he should let Timmy cower in fear away from the thunder alone. Tony crawled over and lightly touched Timmy's leg. The boy was sniveling. "Hey, Timmy, it's jus' thunder outside," he murmured.

Timmy whimpered and shifted on the ground, and Tony only briefly wondered what was wrong before he spied the wet patch on Timmy's pants. His Pull-Up had leaked. "D-didn' mean to," Timmy wailed when Tony stopped the other boy's shifting. "I j-jus'..."

"It's okay," Tony said. "It's okay."

Timmy continued to cry. Another clap of thunder shook the window pane and Timmy flinched away. Tony wrapped his arms around Timmy and shushed him. Timmy clutched at Tony's shirt and Tony realized that right now, he was probably bigger than Timmy was. That scared him more than a little bit. "I'm sorry I've been mean lately, I can't sleep," Tony admitted. "I still get nightmares about Kate sometimes, and sometimes I get...older nightmares."

"Sorry I used naughty words," Timmy sniffled. "Daddy used them when I was bad, it's kinda force of habit now."

Tony hugged his brother tighter and closed his eyes. "I promise I'll try not to fight with you until next week."

"Deal," Timmy said back into Tony's shirt.

Another bolt of lightning struck and both boys jumped. The light under the door from the hallway flickered and went out. Tony and Timmy looked at each other in horror. " _Papa_!" they screamed.

Footsteps rushed to the door. There was a click, and suddenly Papa was in the room checking them over. "What's wrong? Are you two hurt?"

"Timmy had an accident, and the thunder is scary," Tony said, leaning into Papa's touch.

Papa relaxed. "I'm glad both of you are okay. Have you worked things out?"

Both boys nodded, and Papa led them to the nursery, where there was a flashlight already on. "Timmy, can I change you? I think you're a bit little to do it yourself right now."

"Mm," Timmy hummed.

Tony went to his crib and sat down on it, grabbing the blanket folded in the corner as Papa changed Timmy. "You can look now, Tony," Papa said.

"Can we build a fort?" Tony asked, holding the blanket up as he looked over hopefully.

Timmy, who was now wearing a full diaper and no pants, smiled at the question. "Can we?" he asked Papa. "We can help pick it up when we're done using it!"

Papa looked between them and smiled. "How could I say no to faces like that?" he asked.

And so within the hour the living room had been turned into a massive fort, complete with pillows and blankets and flashlights lighting up the scary shapes in the dark corners. A portable radio played music softly through the room, and Papa was reading _Hop on Pop_ to Tony and Timmy, both on the edges of sleep. Tony turned to Timmy and nudged him lightly. Timmy turned to him, face scrunched up in annoyance. "Are we still good?" he asked. He needed to be sure that Timmy wasn't still mad at him.

"Mm-hm. Now quiet, I wanna hear the story."

Tony smiled and closed his eyes, letting Papa's speech wash over him. Everything was gonna be okay. Even if it didn't always seem like it, and sometimes things were scary like the thunderstorm, Papa could make it better again. Papa could always make things better.


End file.
